The Slayer of Essos: Aamori
by Jon5now
Summary: A mysterious woman has made her way across the Shimmering Sea to seek council with the Mother of Dragons.
1. Chapter 1: Aamori

Meereen. the largest of the Slave Cities. Surrounded by a wall of yellowstone that was claimed to be impenetrable. She walked up the ramp that led to the giant gate that stood open for most of the day. Most people were winded by the time they'd reached the top, even the fittest soldier in the Kingsguard struggled with the particular angle the ramp reached. Not her. She'd marched across the Red for three months. Before that she'd sailed across the Shivering Sea for half a year, before that she'd lived for two years in King's Landing, learning her trade, taking in information, stealing from her former employers, gradually saving her golden dragons.

All to reach this place.

She walked down the first street that led from the gate. The most well known and busiest street in Meereen. She'd read a little about the capital of Slaves. How merchants would sell you their children if you gave them a decent price, or their wives if they'd grown tired enough. No one reached out to here though. Not anymore. Merchants sold viable wares. Clothing, jewelry, fruit, wine, nothing she hadn't seen before. No children or wives were being sold. Everyone was going about their lives, as if two months ago their city hadn't been ransacked, taken over and rebuilt. The only difference she could find between Meereen and King's Landing was everyone was speaking Valyrian. She merely looked around her and kept walking, not paying attention to any of the merchants trying to sell her a new cloak, one merchant felt it necessary to point out that her current one had collected a large amount of dust and salt. She merely kept her stance straight and returned to her walking. Eventually she reached the 800 foot pyramid she'd first seen two miles away from the cities gates. Here was her destination. Originally it hadn't been. The Mother of Dragons had changed her residence more than a few times over the course of the past year. Always moving with her khalasar, never staying in one place for more than a few weeks. But something had kept her here, she'd overheard the story of The Siege of Meereen in a tavern before. There weren't that many details, and unlike Astapor, The Mother of Dragons hadn't taken a major role in this uprising.

She was not stopped at the steps. She was not stopped at the gate, she was stopped at the door, or archway, of the throne room. Being located in the middle on the shore of a salty sea led to Meereen being humid and sometimes acrid. Which meant that many of the buildings were built very open, usually only having a sheet to serve as a door. The palace was no different. Instead of being in the center of the pyramid where a window would be nearly impossible to build, it was built towards the right facing side. It was a large, open room, filled with small fountains, and a wall that was only considered a wall due to the two foot wide beams of stone that connected the ceiling to the floor. But she'd hardly seen those before two spears kept her at the entrance.

"What business do you have with the Queen of Meereen?" an old man approached her, dressed in the same armor as the men who blocked her path, but without a helm to cover his aged face.

"I have traveled a long way to see The Mother of Dragons." It was no secret that Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of Meereen was the Mother of the only three Dragons left on the planet. But this held more weight spoken the proper High Valyrian.

She saw the Queen from across the room direct her attention towards her. "Let her in."

The spears lifted, yet the old man pestered. Good. She was worried the Queen would leaver herself too open, too vulnerable, to attack. She marched forward, cautiously. A green dragon seated next to the Queen watched her carefully. Perhaps you didn't need a hall full of knights when you had a dragon. She couldn't remember if the green one had been Rhaegal or Viserion. "Daenerys Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Queen of the Andals, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, breaker of chains, Queen of Meereen."

Daenerys stared at her. "You forgot Rhoynar and The First Men. 'Your Grace' will do just fine."

"I have traveled from King's Landing to find you, and now I am finally here."

Her aged guard approached. Holding his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"And?"

She removed her hood. Showing her dark brown skin, her bald head and the white markings that traveled from her head all the way down her body to her feet, though the most she'd showed any person were the ones on her head and hands. "I have come to bend the knee." She knelt. "As well as offer my services, as former best sellsword in Westeros."

"What is your name?"

Her name? She hadn't used that in over a year. In truth it wasn't her real name. She'd never had one of those, she had a given name. "Aamori."

The man who stood next to her throne stepped forward. "Aamori? Aamori the Killer? Aamori the Savage?"

Those were names she'd been given by men who managed to survive her.

"Rise."

She looked the Queen in her violet eyes for the first time. They held a mixture of thoughts. Mostly intrigue and disbelief.

"If Ser Jorah has heard of your exploits you must be a true warrior."

"I have not dueled in sometime." the last time she'd killed someone had been a month ago. And that hadn't even been a fight. Just a mugger in some alleyway.

"I have no shortage of warriors in my rule."

"This one is something unique Khaleesi." said the man she'd called Sir Jorah. Despite all her research, she hadn't been able to find much about the shamed son of the Lord Commander of the Nights Watch.

The Queen called out to the man at the bottom of the steps. Aamori hadn't paid the warrior much attention. Though now she saw that he was dressed the same as old helmless man, just much, much younger, much more handsome as well. "Grey Worm. I would like to see the skills of our friend here. Do not kill her please. Aamori, I will ask the same of you."

"Yes your Grace." Aamori removed her cloak in one swift motion. Her belt held two curved blades only held by two strong cords. She maneuvered her hands in a way that untied the knots, almost as if by magic. She took a stance that no one in Westeros had ever seen. Because her trainers had made sure that anyone who ever lay eyes upon the stance was dead by the end of the duel. Everyone in the throne room now held a significant privilege.

The young man across from her took a spear and a shield, both with long points protruding from the instruments. The Unsullied were rumored to be invincible. Even if they felt pain, they would show no sign of it. They did not grunt or grin to give away their move, the only stance they took was a defensive one, and from that it was random. At least it appeared that way, but to the soldiers, it was an art they were taught from the moment they could stand. These eyes that stared at her were empty. Not soulless, just empty.

The fight began quick, and only quickened from there. She'd move her blades to block a strike, which would only make him shove his pointed shield towards her face, which would make her move back, she was nearing the archway. She swiped falsely at his knee, expecting him to block, then she launched herself off the shield and turned her back to the throne. The fight continued. She'd lunge, he'd block. He'd lunge, she'd dodged. Until eventually he caught her, at least she made him think he'd caught her. He caught the point of his spear in her shirt. and pulled her in close, turned his back to her, struck the back of her knee, drew a dagger and held it at her throat.

"Aamori the Slayer?" Daenerys said.

"Truly your Grace." said the Grey Worm.

"Truly." said Aamori, then she sprung. In the gauntlets she wore were blades that would spring out at her command. She only drew them out enough to surprise him, drawing only a little blood, then she swept her legs underneath his own, drew him to the ground, took out his spear and held it at his throat.

"Truly. Your Grace. I yield."

"Yet you were victorious."

"You asked us not the kill one another. I have no doubt that if the fight continued, we would both go until I tired of exhaustion and killed over. So I yield to Grey Worm."

She stroked her dragons neck, he puffed a little smoke, then blew a small, steady stream of fire at a plate of fish a servant had brought out earlier. It was impressive, the beast showed great control and kept the temperature low enough not to melt the serving tray.

"I am impressed."

"I am happy to impress you your grace. Have I proved to be of some value to the Queen of Meereen?"

"You have. But as I said before I have no shortage of warriors at my side. Eight thousand Unsullied make up my army."

"I am no simple warrior your Grace."

"I can see that. Which is why I will offer you a place in my Queensguard."

"The Queensguard?"

"You heard correctly."

"Your Grace?" Ser Jorah turned to her and said something Aamori couldn't hear.

"I am aware. But it is obvious she has honor, and she had a sir about her. I can't place my finger on it, but I trust her."

"Thank you your Grace. I will serve you to the end of my days."

"You should know the Queensguard has different rules than the Kingsguard. I will allow you to take a spouse, and you are not required to serve for life. Should you ever wish to leave my service, you merely need to say so and you will be granted leave."

Aamori took up one of her dropped curved blades, bent at the knee and put her forehead to the hilt with the point of the blade in the stone floor. "I will serve you, Daenerys Targaryen."

"Rise Aramori, and serve at my side." She motioned toward an empty spot to her right. Between the returned Grey Worm and a man with hair that reached to the middle of his back. She put her cloak back on and took her new seat, a member of the Targaryen Queensguard.


	2. Chapter 2: Daenerys

"I will make his spine into a trophy!" shouted the Queen.

"It is alright Khaleesi." Ser Jorah went to her side and led her back to her seat.

"How did this happen?" she asked,

Aamori unfolded the letter once more. "He killed the members of the council you left to rule Astapor. Then he took the throne for himself and began creating an army of Unsullied for himself."

The fury was obvious in her eyes. "You may leave."

That left her, Ser Jorah, Ser Barristan, and Daario all seated around her.

"What are we going to do?" she asked them all, but only Ser Jorah offered his council.

"Take back the city your Grace. He may be amassing his own army, but it will be a decade before they are the same grade as your Unsullied."

She rubbed her forehead. He was right. These new Unsullied were amatuer. Most of them adults taken into training. It would only take Ser Jorah two hundred men to take back the city. She sat back, weighing her options. There really was only one. Why was she so wary to let Ser Jorah take a small army to reclaim the city?

"What are our other options?"

"Send Daario and a few troops in the city and retake it from inside." Just as he'd taken the other cities.

She thought some more. "If we let Daario take a small company of soldiers, it would really limit our losses."

"The Butcher King could also see us a dozen miles away if we marched over there with two-hundred soldiers. Astapor's walls are very high. Perhaps Missandei knows of a secret way into the city."

Daenerys motioned to one of the guards at the door. "Get Missandei for me please. She should be in her bedchamber."

The soldier nodded and walked out of the room. She rubbed her head once again.

"This is apart of the job Khalessi. People stage uprisings every day. It will be no different in Westeros." said Ser Barristan.

"Power is a dangerous thing my lady. People crave it, and once they have it, it consumes them." offered Ser Jorah.

"If we were to create a company of soldiers who would you like?" she asked Daario.

"Ser Jorah of course. I saw him fight Yunkai, he would be a valuable asset."

"Thank you Daario. I will gladly fight by your side once more."

"Who else?"

"Aamori."

"The Slayer?" Ser Barristan had a look of shock on his face.

"Why not? You saw her fight the Grey Worm."

"She would make short work of any opposers. The fact that she can defeat an Unsullied in the field is a sizeable feat your Grace."

"You may have her. And any other soldiers you may wish to take with you. Just leave Grey Worm and Ser Barristan with me."

Missandei was brought in. "Your Grace?"

"I was wondering if you knew of any secret passages in Astapor."

"Of course your Grace. There is the Royal Path. It follows from the throne room to an opening about a mile south. Then there is the sewer system, and the river banks."

"I am not going through the sewers again." said Ser Jorah. Dany chuckled.

"I would not ask you or Daario to do that again. The Royal Path then?"

"Could you lead us to the path?" asked Daario.

"I could."

"Would it be wise to bring her to combat Ser Jorah?"

"Combat, your Grace?"

"An uprising has been staged in Astapor. A man called the Butcher King has killed my council and begun building an Unsullied army of his own."

"The Butcher? Cleon?"

"You know this man?"

"Yes your Grace. He worked in the kitchens. It was said he could prepare a pig in less than five minutes."

"A Butcher is not a warrior, your Grace."

"He is a very arrogant man."

"If you were to lead them to the path, is there a place where you could hide until the battle is over?"

"Yes your Grace. The Path was unknown to everyone except the Slave Masters and their closets handmaidens. The Butcher will not know about it."

"Good. What does my council think?"

"It would be simple, easy, and limit the number of casualties on both sides." said Ser Jorah.

"I will select our best soldiers and ask Aamori."

"We'll do that now. Missandei, please retrieve Aamori."

"Yes your Grace."

Soon Missandei brought the young woman back in. "Yes your Grace?"

"I would like to ask you, if you would join a small company of soldiers led by Daario and Ser Jorah that will take back Astapor."

"Of course your Grace. It would be my honor." she knelt down.

"Excellent. Daario and Ser Jorah will select twelve of the best soldiers we have and take back Astapor. This small council meeting is adjourned."

Daenerys retired to her bedchamber and dismissed her handmaidens. She sat there, staring out the window at the setting sun. She'd left a city she'd freed and handed it right back to a slaver. Now she was risking two of her small council, her most trusted handmaiden, the newest member of her Queensguard and twelve of her best soldiers.

"How could I have let this happen." she said quietly to herself.

She sat there, picking at the dried figs in a bowl. Eventually she left the room and walked down to the opened basement to see her dragons. Drogon glided right next to her. She threw fish in the air and watched as they cooked them in mid-air and ate them. They truly were magical creatures.

"How am I to be Queen of a country when I can' keep one city safe from slavers." she asked her dragons. She hadn't expected and answer, and she didn't get one. They were dragons. She didn't even know if they were capable of really understanding her. The only words they acted upon were High Valyarian commands.

She sat down and her dragons all curled around her, asleep. She looked out on the back of the basement, once a wall that had been knocked down to allow the dragons to come and go as they pleases. She looked out over the sea, all the ships bringing in food, wares and people. She looked out over it all. "This is mine, and I need to rule it properly. Not as a Queen. But as a Khaleesi."


	3. Chapter 3: Daario

Fifteen horses, twelve soldiers, three commanders, and a handmaiden marched across the Red Sea. They'd made decent time, but now they left their horses, climbed a pile of boulders and looked high and low for the entrance to the secret tunnel into Astapor.

"It should be somewhere around here, underneath an oddly colored rock." shouted the handmaiden.

Oddly colored in Essos meant the stone they were looking for a grey boulder.

"Fifteen people can't find a bloody rock?" Ser Jorah said as he walked next to him.

The quarry was large enough to spend a fortnight looking for the damned thing.

"Over here!"

The handmaiden shouted. 'Over here' could mean anywhere, voices carried here, echoing off each rock in the space. The two men climbed down, trying to follow the voice.

"Hold." Ser Jorah threw an arm across Daario's chest, keeping him from falling about ten feet into a pile of about six soldiers.

"The rocks sort of make a set of steps about a yard that way." The handmaiden pointed. Ser Jorah decided just to sit on the edge and leap down. Daario went to gather the other six soldiers and the assassin they'd carried with him. When everyone but the assassin was accounted for he thought about leaving her out there, but the idea was stupid and crushed soon after he'd thought about it.

"Did they find it?"

He found her moving rocks that seemed to hide some alcove of some sort.

"Yes. This way."

He gave her his hand and helped her up the stone wall. She stumbled, but recovered and looked at him. Her white eyes and tattoos glowed in the sun. His father had once told him 'white eyes speak bold lies.' The white-eyed people of Ibben were renowned as thieves and cutthroats.

"Might I inquire as to how a young lady from a fishing village found herself in Westeros?" They began walked toward the entrance to the tunnel.

"I don't like to talk about myself."

"Come on. If we are to fight side by side I must know something about you. I will tell you about me. I was born in Yunkai and given by my parents to the Second Sons in order to pay a debt they owed. Their lieutenants saw my skill with a sword and thought I'd be more useful as a warrior. Our training was harsh, not to the degree of the Unsullied mind you, but close. We were beat when we did something wrong, and when we did something right, we were beat lightly." He quit talking for a few seconds. "Now you."

"I wasn't born in Ibben. Just my parents. I was born Kayce. Not much of a difference between the two. I was destined to smell of fish apparently."

"Good. We're sharing."

"Could you two hurry it up?" Ser Jorah shouted from the pit.

"May we talk later?"

She didn't answer, she just smiled and walked down the makeshift stairs. Apparently it had taken all twelve soldiers to move the boulder. The handmaiden had lit the torch she'd packed and was leading the way. What appeared to be a straight forward march soon took a steep turn down a short spiral staircase. Daario looked down, seeing the light from far down. Aamori carried one as well, but it hardly did anything.

"Be careful here, there's a few steps."

Without any windows, Daario had no idea how long they'd been down there. He'd made the mistake of not counting the seconds he'd been walking. Eventually they came to a large oval room that was obviously meant for whoever was escaping to regroup.

"All right. This ladder here right here will lead you to a bedchamber close to the throne room. The bed chamber was not used by the Slave Masters, but there's no telling what the Butcher King has done to the palace."

Ser Jorah climbed first, then Aamori, then Daario, and then the twelve soldiers.

"The bed chamber is used, but no one is here now." Ser Jorah climbed out of the trap door, locked the door to the bed chamber and helped Aamori off the ladder.

"Thank you Ser Jorah."

Daario looked around. In every cabinet and wardrobe. "Nice clothes, jewelry, no books or weapons. Probably some guest room. We should get out before the guest comes back. Ser Jorah unlocked the door and silently strode out, Aamori dropped her cloak and drew her two curved blades, Daario drew his curved sword and each soldier drew their swords.

Ser Jorah and Daario took out two guards, slicing each of their necks.

Aamori removed the head of a guard rounding the corner and the soldiers did their best to hide the bodies and protect from the rear.

"The throne room is up ahead." Ser Jorah said from around the corner. Aamori made the first move. Throwing a dagger in the eye of one of the Butcher's Unsullied soldier. He made a cry, which proved that these Unsullied were far less trained that Daenerys own.

"What is this?" The Butcher King rose from his seat.

"This is a message from Daenerys Stormborn." Ser Jorah began.

"Queen of the Andals and the First Men." added Aamori.

"Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea." said Daario.

"Breaker of Chains." all the soldiers said.

And all of them together said. "Mother of Dragons."

They began removing the guards one by one. Soon the throne room was covered in bodies, not one of them their own. Each soldier took a fallens shield. "Take up arms in the city. The people will fight back." Ser Jorah told the soldier. "We will deal with the Usurper."

"Usurper?" He'd sat on his throne, surrounded by a council of fat old men all seated on pillows, all of them in shock over what had just happened. "How dare you speak such lies!"

"You are Cleon the Butcher, are you not?" asked Aamori.

"I am."

"Killer of the small council left here by Daenerys Stormborn herself?"

The council of fat men laughed at her. "What is this bitch doing here questioning me?" one of them asked.

She was quick as a bolt of lightning. She held one of her curved blades underneath one of the man's chins. And after that, his head was on the floor, spraying a small amount of blood on the carpet and pillow. The body fell with a heavy _thud._

The room then smelled. One of these fat men had soiled himself, or all three, Daario wasn't sure. "Stinking old men can't even control their bowels. I say we just kill them all here."

"All except this one." Ser Jorah pointed his blade at the Butcher King. The Queen wants to punish this one herself.

"No, you can't let her do that."

Aamori and Daario quickly executed all the small council members. Some of the last few ran down the hall, but a knife in the back of the knee kept them from going any further.

"No please. Show mercy." The last one begged Daario.

"Mercy? Where is mercy for the people you are selling? The babes you are taking from their mothers? The innocents lost? The men left here to lead this city? Where was their mercy? _Valar Morgulis._" And with those words he thrust the sword in the man's throat. The three commanding officers looked out over the city. The small company of twelve soldiers had become an uprising of thousands of citizens, all against five-hundred citizens who hadn't been trained for more than a fortnight. Most of the new Unsullied bent the knee, it was just a matter of getting to Ser Jorah before they were killed in the crossfire. They took the Butcher King, cuffed him and tied a bad around his head. He was crying.

"Come on now, none of that. We're going to have a fun time back in Meereen."

The King's three wives and children came running from their rooms. Bruises evident on their bodies. Old, but still present.

"Please, take us to the true Queen."

Ser Jorah ordered them to wait in the throne room. Aamori traveled to the roof of the palace and lit a huge fire, signaling for more troops to travel from Meereen.

By sunset, the uprising had ended. Hundreds lay dead, many of them the Butcher's Unsullied, only a few citizens of the city, none of them the twelve that had traveled here.

"Our Grace will be happy no doubt." Aamori said.

"She plans on constructing a proper council as well as leaving some of her Unsullied here to guard them." Daario said. She'd told the small council how she planned to keep this from happening again.

"Perhaps we will never have to return here."

"At least not for another uprising."

"You are a great warrior Daario. I relish fighting next to you in the future."

"I await the story you owe me."

"Is that the deal now? A story for a story?"

"If you'll accept."

"Then by that logic you owe me the story now."

He laughed and the two climbed down the large staircase that took up the majority of the palace entrance.


	4. Chapter 4: Aamori

The Butcher King was marched from Astapor to Meereen in the baking sun naked. Tied to the rear of a horse ridden by an Unsullied, surrounded by people throwing rocks and dung at him, with his manhood tied around his neck. The Mother of Dragons had made an example of him, making sure no others would ever think to take the city away from her or the people she appointed to run it. At sunset the crowd would arrive at the doors of Meereen, the Butcher King would be put in a cage that hung outside the palace, and in the morning he would be executed.

But for now, the small council was gathering and for some strange reason, Aamori had been invited to attend. Daenerys sat at the head of the long table, with Ser Jorah at her right, Daario to her left and Ser Jorah beside Daario.

"Hello Aamori. Take a seat." she looked at the empty seat "I am sure you are wondering why I invited you."

"The thought had entered my mind your Grace."

Dany chuckled. "All morning, the small council and myself have been trying to decided who we will leave to take charge in Astapor."

"I hope you have not offered for me to oversee it."

"No, no. We've decided on our previous arrangement. A healer, scholar and priest. We've each selected who we think will do best on the council."

"Forgive me your Grace, but how does this involve me?"

"Along with new council, we are sending two thousand of my Unsullied, and we would like to send you."

Aamori didn't know what to think.

"Ser Jorah and Daario," Dany continued, "spoke highly of your skills in the field. And I would like to try my best to avoid another uprising. We would ask you to serve as the commanding guard to the council."

"Think of it as a Councilguard." Ser Jorah offered. "You and the twelve soldiers we took with us to Astapor will guard the three council members personally."

"Your Grace. I am honored."

"Will you accept the position?" Ser Jorah asked.

"Yes, I will. Thank you."

"Good. I would like for you to be ready to leave tomorrow. We need to begin rebuilding Astapor as soon as we can."

"Yes your Grace. Will that be all?"

"Yes, you are dismissed."

They'd already begun discussing the next topic when Aamori left the council room. She quickly made her way to her room and packed what few things she had set up in her room. She was trembling with excitement, to have been appointed as protector of the Council by the Queen herself. Even at dinner she'd been a mess, not speaking in fear of saying something that would take the position away, even if she was certain the Queen would never be that cruel. Sleep eluded her that night, so she took her rounds. Then took them again, and then once more, until she found herself standing on the steps to the palace, looking at the moon over the bay.

"Well if it isn't the black-skinned bitch."

The Butcher King hung in his cage, swinging in the breeze and bringing his smell to her nose. She could've lost her dinner right there on the palace steps.

"The Butcher King himself."

He laughed. "I always liked that name. What do they call you bitch?"

"Slayer of Essos."

He laughed harder and then fell into the coughing fit. He stopped only after several seconds. "I think I'll stick with bitch."

She walked up to his cage, trying her best to ignore the stench. "It won't matter what you prefer, in a few hours you'll be dead."

"Do you think so?"

"I know so."

"My father always warned of white eyes."

She backed away.

"If it weren't for those eyes and those bloody tattoos I might give you a good ol' fucking. You look like you could use it."

She turned away and began walking back up the steps.

"I reckon it would take a fortnight to clear the cobwebs though. Don't know if it'd be worth it!" He laughed and coughed like he had before, this one lasted longer.

"How would you fuck with your manhood strung around your throat?"

He frowned like he'd forgotten. "Little bitch. Remember, the night is dark and full of terrors."

The words were nothing to her. She walked back up the steps, found her bedchamber, and managed to steal back a few hours of sleep before she was woken by a handmaiden.

"The Queen wishes to see you in her throne room."

Aamori washed her face and underarms. "Time to shave again," she muttered to herself quietly. She threw on a robe and walked down the hall to the throne room. The Queen looked angry. _What have I done now? _she thought.

"You summoned me your Grace?" she knelt down. She looked up and noticed that only Daario stood beside her.

"The Butcher King escaped early this morning. Shortly before his scheduled execution."

Aamori stood without being told, the words shocked her and left a sore feeling in her throat. "My lady I assure you I-"

"No need to defend yourself Aamori, I know you could not have done this. Several guards and citizens confirmed your alibi. Besides, according to Ser Jorah, the he left the lockpick he'd used in the door."

"Then why am I here your Grace, if I may ask?"

"I know I assigned you to guard over the council of Astapor, but I have another task for you."

"You wish for me to hunt the Butcher?"

"Yes. If you would take the job."

"I would relish the opportunity your Grace."

"Ser Barristan is preparing everything you'll need. We collected a few names of people the Butcher King was fond of. The list had been considerable shortened since the retaking of Astapor, but one of them may know where he is hiding. I would like for you leave as soon as you can."

"Yes your Grace."

"Many guards say you talked with the Butcher for sometime."

"I did your Grace. Sleep eluded me and I took a walk, I'd forgotten he was being held near the steps."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Only one thing stands out. He said 'the night is dark and full of terrors.'"

Dany sat back on her throne, obviously shaken by the words. "The Lord of Light."

"Beg your pardon you Grace?"

"R'hllor. The God of this country, though his presence has spread to out Westerosi friends."

"I've never heard of him."

"Were you not born here?"

"No your Grace. My parents were, but I was born in Kayce. Neither my parents or masters ever spoke of R'hllor or any religion for that matter."

"He has many temples in Essos. I will tell Ser Barristan to mark them for you, I suggest you begin in Volantis, it is the closest temple. I hear he is a kind, gentle man. Perhaps he knows where the Butcher King has gone. Do not fret, once they know of his crimes, they will make him serve his sentence. Their ways may be strange, but they are mostly just people."

"Yes your Grace."

"I have also asked Daario to accompany you, should the Butcher or his men offer any resistance. He also will know the terrain better."

"It will be an honor to serve beside the Slayer of Essos once again." He bowed to her, why he did, she had no clue.

"And it will be an honor to serve by Ser Daario once again."

"No 'Ser'," he said.

"He's refused to be knighted." Dany added. "Something about brave men not needing to be knights."

All three laughed and Ser Barristan walked in. "Your Grace, the horses are ready, whenever they are."

"Are you ready to leave Aamori?"

"Yes your Grace."


	5. Chapter 5: Daario

Daario took a sip from his canteen.

"We'll need to stop soon." He said after he'd emptied the leather pouch.

"There should be a small town up ahead. Ser Barristan marked on the map."

They been traveling for two days and a night, stopping only once, and had somehow managed to exhaust nearly all their water. "It's been a hot summer, hottest we've ever seen."

"Ironic that the west would be suffering the coldest winter in generations."

They both laughed.

Daario was glad they would be stopping soon. His crotch and arse had grown sore from all the riding, and he was sure the horses would drop dead if they didn't get a break.

"I need something to distract me." He said. "How about a story?"

"You do owe me." she said back.

"What would you like to know?"

"What happened during your training with the Second Sons?"

"Ah. What did I tell you last time?"

"Your parents sold you to pay a debt. The saw your skill with a sword and trained you."

"Ah, yes. There is a lot more to the tale." He took a short silence. "When I was sold to the Second Sons, they used me as a servant. I served the masters their breakfast, lunch and dinner, cleaned up after them, making their beds after a night with the local whores. Sometimes the Masters would take me to their bed when the whores were busy."

She stared at him and gave a small grin. "They took your maidenhood?"

"You could call it that. Though I must admit I found it enjoyable at times." He gave her a grin. "They do say I'll sleep with anything that has a pulse after all!" He laughed hard, so hard he thought he might fall of his horse. "I guess you could say I'm a bit of a whore."

She laughed at that.

"One day in the training room, after everyone had left, I was cleaning the weapons. I practiced on a dummy. One of the masters saw. He told me I had excellent form, but if the dummy could fight back I'd've been dead in five seconds. He trained me every night after the training room closed. Sure I had to stay up an extra few hours to finish my work, but it was worth it. The master showed me to his own masters one day and they were impressed. They offered to train me officially with the other trainees. After that my life got a little easier. Years of training and whoring and finally I became the youngest lieutenant in the Second Sons."

"You've lived quite the life Daario."

"Yes, I suppose I have."

"Look, I see the town." Aamori pointed to the horizon, where Daario saw a small black dot.

"That's it?"

"Mantarys. City of whores and thieves."

"Every city in Essos is 'the city of whores and thieves'. As long as there is food and water I'll be happy." He rode ahead of her. "And if there are whores I'll be even happier!" he laughed and kept on riding. She caught up quickly and it soon became a race to reach the gates first.

He won.

Mantarys was a slum. Usually in a city there was one place dedicated as the slums, but Mantarys was one large slum. With three brothels for every citizen, it was rare not to be a whore. It was even rumored that the runners of these brothels had to reach out to other cities to supply their customers with the 'finest' in whoring.

"Let's just find a tavern to sleep in." He maneuvered his horse carefully between each alley.

"You act as though you've been here before."

"I never said I hadn't." he chuckled. "Finest whores in Essos indeed!" He kept on riding. "Here will do. They give you a lower rate if you've been here before."

They each got their own rooms and had dinner delivered to them personally. Aamori visited soon afterward, just as Daario escorted a young man and woman out of his room.

"Busy already?'

"The Te'tli Twins. Guaranteed a night of magic. Just getting an arrangement made, they'll be back in a few hours. What can I do for you?"

"I was just thinking I owed you a story."

"That's right!" he was a little inebriated at this point. "And a story I want. Take a seat."

She pretended he'd asked her and took one of the chairs at the table in the corner.

"So what would you like to know?" she asked.

He stared at her face for a few seconds, he swore he saw some pink in her cheeks. Then he looked at her shoulders, following the tattoos down her body to her hands. "Tell me about these." he said so lightly he wasn't sure he'd heard her. "Tell me about these."

She definitely blushed that time and withdrew her hands back behind her cloak. "Oh."

"If you do not wish to tell me then I can ask for another story."

"No, no. It's fine." What had begun as a fun game had turned serious. Obviously this was a source of great pain for her. "My masters told me it would help to talk about them. But you're the first person I've really told." She sat there for a few seconds.

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me."

"My parents were killed about about a year after we came to Westeros. Raiders attacked their village, killed most of the people there. They found us hiding in our little shack. Put a sword through my father's stomach, kept my mom alive for a little longer. They took me outside. They said I looked exotic, that they could get a bit of silver for me. They put me in a cage with the other people they thought they could sell, I heard my mother's screaming as a few of the raiders carried us away." Tears were forming in her eyes by the time she'd finished. "I'm sorry." she wiped her eyes and laughed a little. "Guess I needed to talk about it."

Daario only held her hand.

"They took us to a small camp. They made us sleep in the cage, feeding us some bread but not much else. A week later, they took all the children to a brothel. A man named Jan'ro brought me, took me to his brothel. I'd heard what happened in brothels, how they trained you to please your customers. But Jan'ro didn't run the usual kind of brothel. There were no customers, no other girls, just me and him. He led me to what I thought would be my room and then he knocked me unconscious. When I woke up I was in intense pain. Jan'ro had shaved my body completely and placed these white lines on my body. They seemed to move on their own once he made them, like magic and when I touched them, they burned. Not just my fingers but the places I touched them. I watched them for hours, moving on my skin like fish in water. By nightfall, I was covered in them. I asked Jan'ro what they were, he only told me 'they are a message'. I tried to ask him who the message was for, every time I asked he'd just ignore me, or stare at me until he thought of something to say. Then I woke up one morning, my chains were unlocked and the house was empty except for some clothing, a bag of food, some money and a key to the house. The money lasted for about a month. I tried to find work around the town, but everyone thought I was some kind of monster. I sold the house, and made my way to King's Landing."

"How old were you?"

She thought for a moment. "My fifth name day passed about a month before the attack on my home."

"Five years old and you walked to King's Landing?"

"Well I found a hay carriage that took me to the closest farm. They let me stay there for a bit. After that, yes. I walked."

"So who trained you to fight?"

"Ah-ah Daario. You owe me a story." A smile replaced the thin line her mouth had become since she'd begun her tale.

"I'd better think of a good one then eh?"

"It'd be hard to top mine. We leave in the morning?"

"Yes ma'am!'

"Goodnight Daario. Enjoy your twins."

The door closed behind her.

"Goodnight, Aamori of Essos."


	6. Chapter 6: Aamori

She awoke with jolt, nearly falling off the cot. She rubbed her temples and breathed in and out.

In and out.

In and out.

The nightmares always gave her a severe headache that would keep her up for the rest of the night. She washed her face in the basin, put her robe back on and decided to walk downstairs. The tavern was empty, which was unusual for Mantarys, even the woman who ran the bar seemed to have retired for the night.

"Seems like a bad business practice." She whispered to herself as she walked out the unlocked door into the street. It seemed too empty for one on the Valyrian Roads, not even a beggar in sight. She kept walking, exploring everything the city had, but without vendors shouting at her, it was hard to tell what went where.

Something didn't feel right. Something was off about the city, almost as if it was a completely different place than the one they'd marched into a few hours ago. The breeze picked up, creating this swirl around her feet. Her cloaked brushed back and she saw that her tattoos seemed to be glowing brighter like the breeze kept growing stronger and stronger, blowing her hood from her head.

_A Sandstorm?_ she thought.

She kept walking, looking around for the place her and Daario had been staying, but when she turned around she was no longer in Mantarys. She was in the middle of the Red Waste. The breeze was growing so strong to where she couldn't see her hands in front of her face. She was getting dizzy, breathing in the dust that was blowing around her, she started coughing, harder and harder. She knelt down, trying to cover herself with her cloak, but the wind kept blowing it upward, just putting more dust in her face.

She looked up and saw a single building in the middle of the desert, with a single red door untouched by the sand, as if it were the eye of the storm. She walked towards it and pushed.

Locked.

She kept pushing, and pushing. Finally she kicked the door in and it gave way. She ran inside and closed the door tightly. Aamori breathed quietly.

In and out

In and out

In and out

She closed her eyes and counted backwards from one hundred.

She reached eighty-four,

And suddenly she was falling.

Falling

Falling

Falling

It wasn't the real thrill of falling, none of the panic. No sense of impact. But everything around her moved upward, and now she sat in darkness. Not just the darkness of night, but pitch black dark.

She was knew it was all a dream.

She'd had these types of dreams before.

She remembered them vividly,

And they only got worse from here.

Soon she was a child again. Before the tattoos, she stood in front of another door which she recognized instantly, it was the door of her childhood house. And through the door she could hear the agonizing screams of her mother and father. She opened the door and saw much more than that.

The corpses of everyone she'd killed sat there, each looking at her with glazed over eyes. In this dream there were additional bodies, each of the former council of Astapor she'd killed now looked at her. She let out her own scream of agony and closed her eyes. When she opened them she was in Jan'ro's basement, where he put on the tattoos. Instead of the sharp brush he'd used before, he know just held a knife with a bone handle. He made the same movements all over her body, and now instead of tattoos, she had cuts that swirled the same way her tattoos did. She sat there looking at the man who'd cut her up. She couldn't make a sound, not a scream, not a word, no matter how hard she tried. She just closed her eyes and sat there. The thing about these dreams what they she could feel everything, the pain was just dulled a little.

She sat there a took it. After all the times she'd gone through this she knew it would be over soon.

And it was. The knife left her skin and for a while she felt relieved; but she knew what came next. She felt heat all over her body next. When she opened her eyes she was an adult, and she sat at the bottom of a large pit. All around her people screamed, like a gladiatorial ring. She stood up and started walking, but stopped short. She was chained at her ankles to the ground behind her. She stood on her toes and looked at the cliff that ended the pit and dropped off into a pit of fire and magma.

Then a roar.

A roar she'd heard a lot since she came to Daenerys.

Her dragon, Drogo. Now the size of a large ship instead of a dog, with his ebony skin and the veins of red running over the scales, he flew up from the pit, steaming from the magma that dripped off his skin like water. He let out another roar and landed in front of her.

A sword appeared in her hand through thin air and she took a defensive stance. Instead of slicing at Drogon, she tried to cut her chains, not making a scratch. No matter how much she tried this would always end the same.

She was engulfed in the flames that poured from Drogo's mouth, she dropped her sword and waited for the pain to shock her enough to wake up. This time was different though. Instead of pain she felt nothing, her chains and sword melted, her clothes were burnt off, and yet she felt nothing. Drogo knelt in front of her, his wings at his side. The dragon faced her and she placed her hand on it's face. This had never happened before. The the dragon dropped it's wing, as if it was inviting her on it back. She climbed up the scale covered arm and made herself as comfortable as she could on the back of the giant beast, and then it flew.

Drogo swung his wings, lifting himself up and the people in the arena yelled and cheered. And as she flew up she spotted the blonde head of Daenerys Targaryen. She wore a smile on her face and looked as her own dragon carried Aamori upwards toward the sky. Before she could see where the arena was her vision went white. The she heard a voice.

"You're a message."

It was Jan'ro.

And then she woke up.

* * *

I'm not one for these end of chapter post things, but I just felt like I needed to make one. I would like to thank all of you for everything you've done. Without you guys reading this story, I wouldn't get the confidence boost to keep on writing. So basically, you guys are really behind this story. I have an idea bout where the story is going, but I have no idea how long it's going to take to tell it, so I'd just like to use the opportunity to tell you guys I'm going to try and upload a chapter at least once a week, between Sunday and Tuesday. If a chapter isn't uploaded, feel free to message me, I'm probably in a slump and need some sort of motivation.

Again thank you guys for everything you've done for me and I can't wait to see what the future holds for Aamori and the crew.


	7. Chapter 7: Jan'ro

Jan'ro walked atop the Black Wall, waiting for the man who'd written him for help. A week ago a young dirty boy dressed in rags handed him an even dirtier letter. Addressed Cleon mo Ullher. Jan'ro had known the name for quite a while. A former slave who rose to the throne and was quickly uprooted from his seat.

_The Butcher King _he'd named himself.

Truthfully Jan'ro despised the man. In the short time he'd seen Cleon in person, he showed himself to be a vile little man. But the letter held something. Cleon spoke of a dark skinned girl with white tattoos and eyes.

Aamori. She'd finally resurfaced.

Close to fifteen years ago he'd left her in his basement, alone. And now she'd returned to him. Honestly he never wanted to leave the poor girl by herself, he never wanted to do any of the things he'd done. But his Masters demanded it of him. Disobeying meant death, or even worse. He did as he was commanded. For the first few days he wondered what would become of her. How did his Masters expect a five year old girl to survive on her own. For nearly two decades he went about his life, never hearing a word about her, barely ever thinking about her, and now she'd returned.

From Cleon's words she'd become a great warrior. He'd hoped as much. She'd shown much promise when she was young, as though she'd thirsted for a fight.

"Good evening Master Jan'ro." Jan'ro turned towards the voice, expecting Cleon. But it wasn't. Kraznys mo Nakloz stood there in green robes with the fiery heart of R'hllor just above where his heart would be. After what Daenerys Targaryen's dragons had done to him and his men, there was little hope that R'hllor could return him to the mortal realm. Jaro's insurgents still carried the charred body, and even though the majority of his skin was now charred black, and he was blind in one eye, he was still alive.

"Good evening Kraznys. How are you doing."

"Every breath is agony." He laughed a little and stood beside Jan'ro, looking out towards the city. "Other than that I can't complain."

"Oh my friend, you have plenty to complain about." Jan'ro said lightly. "How can I help you?"

"I was told Cleon would be returning to us."

"He is. He escaped the prisons of the Targaryen girl."

"Bitch."

Despite R'hllor's forgiving nature, the council had agreed that Daenerys's method of dealing with Kraznys was harsh, and hardly equal to his crimes. "Remain calm my friend. Her time will come, and sooner than we thought."

"What do you mean my friend?"

"According to our spies in Meereen, the Targaryen has sent two of her insurgents to return Cleon to Astapor for execution."

"So if we can capture these two…."

"Daenerys will come to us. The letter stated the two are apart of her close council."

"Foolish girl."

"Cleon also said the two were some of her best warriors. They both participated in the retaking of Astapor. We need to be careful."

"What do you think we should do?"

"The closer we stay to Meereen, the closer we are to the Targaryen girl. So for the moment, we'll stay here."

Then the two men turned to meet the guard walking towards them. "Master Jan'ro, Master Kraznys. Master Cleon has just entered the city gates."

"Alert the priests, based on his message he'll need a lot of mending."

The guard ran to the center of the palace as Jan'ro and Kraznys walked back inside the wall. Jan'ro was corrected. Cleon's thighs were rubbed raw due to the horse, he was missing a few teeth as well as a few fingernails, and he wore a bandage on his groin.

"Cleon my dear friend." Jan'ro helped him down from the horse and set him down on the stretcher the priests had brought. "What has that girl done to you?"

Cleon couldn't speak, three days of non-stop riding, with no food or water had left the man so weak he fell asleep the moment he lay down on the stretcher.

"Take him to the priests." Jan'ro said.

"That girl is a monster." Kraznys spoke with his raspy voice. He'd put his hood over his head, he'd grown rather self-conscience since he was burnt, and Jan'ro couldn't blame him. "Did she have his manhood removed?"

"It would appear so. Even more evidence for R'hllor to bless our cause." Jan'ro said with a sly smile on his face. The two began walking to the room where Cleon would be treated for his injuries. "How goes the training?"

"The Targaryen bitch outnumbers us twenty-to-one, and our troops pale in comparison to the Unsullied."

"That is troubling my friend. With the Unsullied free, they will follow Daenerys no matter what. We must rely on our wit, not our soldiers."

"I agree. But there is little we can do without some semblance of an army."

Jan'ro laughed. Before his resurrection, Kraznys was a brute with little of a strategical mind. Now he acted like a different man. He thought about his actions, his words before he said them. The more Jan'ro thought about it, the more curious he grew about what happened beyond the veil of death. Though anytime Jan'ro thought to ask him, he felt wrong for bringing it up.

Jan'ro put the thoughts at the back of his mind as they entered the large circular room that served as a medical wing. Jan'ro had never seen so many Red Priests in here at once, all gathered around a table in the center of the room where the patient would usually sit with one or maybe two priests attending to them.

"How is he my friend?" Jan'ro met with Rakharo, the red priest who usually ran the medical wing.

"We stabilized the bleeding, but his wounds are too infected. Now we're waiting for him to die, so we may ask R'hllor to bring him back to us."

"Do you think R'hllor will honor the request?" Kraznys asked.

"Cleon is central to your cause my friend. He will most assuredly oblige."

Cleon died shortly after that. And the chanting of the priests began almost immediately.

"_Lord! cast your light upon this man, your servant._

_Bring him back from death and darkness. _

_His flame has been extinguished, restore it!_"

Cleon took in a long breath and sat up straight. The priests parted, allowing Jan'ro to go to him.

"Cleon my friend." Jan'ro gripped his hand. The patients usually went into shock shortly after they were brought back. "It's alright." Jan'ro comforted the man. Already his wounds were beginning to heal. The slashes across his back were mending at an advanced rate, the cuts along his face closed, the sores on his feet disappeared. "It's alright." Jan'ro repeated. This was the best thing to do, comfort the person until they regained their proper mindset.

Cleon just gasped, taking in deep breaths.

"Slow your breathing." Jan'ro looked him in the eyes.

Eventually Cleon calmed down, slowing his breathing. Jan'ro could see all his wounds were now closed and healed, with only faint scars as evidence that he'd suffered any harm. Well, that and his lack of manhood. Even R'hllor couldn't return missing parts.

Jan'ro turned back to Kraznys and Rakharo. "Get him a room, let him rest and watch him closely. We'll have to question him tomorrow."

Jan'ro walked back outside with Kraznys following closely. They found themselves atop the Black Wall once again. "Soon my friend. The Targaryen Dragons will be ours, and our magic will be more powerful than ever."


	8. Chapter 8: Daenerys

Sleep escaped Daenerys that night, same as it had the several nights before. She'd dream something dark and sinister, and then lie awake until the sun began peeking through her curtained windows.

Some night's she's wander down to see her dragons in their keep.

Other's she'd sit in her throne room, watching the few people of Meereen awake at that hour.

"Daenerys?"

Ser Jorah opened the door slowly, "are you alright?"

"Yes Ser Jorah. Thank you."

"Forgive me for asking, but shouldn't you be asleep?" he asked with a heavy smile.

"I've had a little trouble doing that recently." she said with the same kind of heavy smile.

"I figured as much. Your guards tell me they've heard you talking in your sleep."

"Yes. Of late my dreams have been…" she didn't know what word to use. They were bloody, filled with despair, darkness, moving shadows.

"Would you like to talk about them Khaleesi?"

"I'd rather not bother you Ser Jorah. I'm sure you have enough to deal with."

With the recent retaking of Astapor had left resources limited in Meereen, and a slight increase in crime had made Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan very busy to say the least.

"My job is to protect you Khaleesi, that is what I've spent the better part of these years doing. You can tell me anything."

Daenerys weighed her options lightly. This _was _a man she could trust her life to, but this man also loved her, without her loving him back. She wasn't exactly comfortable with him sitting on her bed.

"I dream," she decided to tell him anyway. "I dream of a man, a bald man, dressed in red with a crimson beard. He's standing on a balcony. And then a hand comes from behind his back and slits his throat, and he falls. Then, a man's throat is slit in front of a blonde woman, she only shouts '_Renly!'_, after that, all I see is blood and shadows, then they meld together, swirling like in a pool until they form the banner of my house. Then I wake up." She hadn't realized how much she'd been talking. Her eyes even welled up slightly.

Ser Jorah looked at her, but he wasn't really looking _at _her. His eyes showed wonder. Amazement that such a young girl would dream something so dark. For a second, Daenerys though he hadn't believed her.

"Do you know what it could mean?"

"This Renly, is more than likely Renly Baratheon. The Usurpers younger brother who was killed sometime ago. Many people blamed it on a knight he'd inducted into his Rainbow Guard that very same day, other's claim a shadowy beast slayed him. The truth is unknown. The bald man, that could be anyone. But Cortnay Penrose was slain on his balcony shortly after Renly's death. It's probably worth mentioning that shortly before his death, he supposedly challenged Stannis Baratheon to a duel. Stannis refused."

Daenerys looked at him in disbelief.

"Raven's carry many messages." he laughed. "The banner. I don't know Khaleesi. From what you've told me, it wouldn't be the first time you've received a vision."

It was true. In the House of the Undying, Daenerys had received visions. Foretelling her of three betrayals.

The betrayal for blood.

For gold.

And for love.

Ser Jorah had told her the first betrayal had come before the prophecy, at the hand of Miir Maz Dur. The witch who had traded the life of her baby for her sun and stars. Leaving him only with the ability to breathe and nothing else. Perhaps these visions were telling her the next betrayal was close, though she was never told the betrayals would happen the order she was told, and she failed to see the connection to gold in these dreams.

And love?

She didn't even know the people presented to her. She'd only just learnt Penrose name, though she'd heard of Renly before. The woman and assassin were a mystery to her. Daenerys closed her eyes and breathed in slowly.

"Would you like a drink Daenerys?"

"Yes, thank you."

She watched Ser Jorah walk to the table where a jug of water sat, still cool from the night. As she heard the water pouring she had a thought.

"Ser Jorah. You never call me by my name."

"Did I call you that? My apologize Khaleesi."

She would've accepted the apology. Few people had made the mistake before, and it wasn't as if it hurt her feelings. Yet it was strange to hear it coming from Jorah. Something felt off about the moment though. The constant wind had stopped blowing, and as she looked at Ser Jorah, standing directly in the moonlight, she realized he wasn't casting a shadow. She checked everything around her, the bed, the walls, even the curtains were casting shadows on the stone floor, but Ser Jorah just stood there.

It took her a few moments to realize he'd stopped pouring the drink.

"Ser Jorah?"

"Oh my dear. You should've just kept your mouth shut."

Jorah turned, his eyes now white, the same as Aamori's, and his skin had grown darker, gradually turning black.

_Just like a shadow. _

The shape that no longer resembled Ser Jorah leapt at her. She was one step ahead, she'd already rolled off her bed, grabbed a dagger she kept beneath her pillow and sprinted out the door. As stumbled into the hallway, the first thing she noticed was the darkness, the second thing was the three slumped over bodies of the guards usually stationed outside her room. She ran to the throne room, just down the hall and gathered the guards stationed there.

"You go get Ser Barristan." she told one. "You sound the bells." she told another. That left her with ten Unsullied soldiers, all surrounding her in circle with their spears drawn and their shields at the ready. Ser Jorah walked in a few moments later.

"Halt." she yelled. The guards all readied themselves.

"Khaleesi, what are you doing?"

"Stop right there."

"Khaleesi I…"

"Ser Jorah, if you take one more step I will order them to cut you down!" she yelled.

She thought for a moment. How could she trust this was the real Jorah. For all she knew, the shadow could've killed the real knight before coming to her door.

"What color was Willem Darry's door?"

She'd told only one person of the door. For her the door was something private, something sacred. The last remnant of a past she longed to go back to. Before the death of her brother and husband, before the birth of her dragons.

"Red your Grace."

Daenerys relaxed. "Stand down men." She ran to Ser Jorah and embraced him, crying into his shoulders.

"It's alright Khaleesi."

She heard her guards shouting behind her in Valyrian.

_"Look out!"_

The men surrounded her and Ser Jorah once more, watching as the shadow glided towards them, holding a knife made of the same shadow as his skin. Any attempt the men made at killing the creature only resulted in their own deaths. It seemed wherever the men put their weapons, a wound in the same place would appear on their own bodies. Soon it was her, Ser Jorah and three other men standing at the palace entrance. "What are you?" she asked, hoping it could be reasoned with.

"I am the terror of the night."

The words rang in her mind, but she couldn't place them.

"Why are you here to kill me?"

"It was the sole purpose of my creation."

Sun hit Daenerys back, she looked over her shoulder. Just over the ocean, the orange sun rose over the ships in the harbor, then she heard hissing. The sun was hitting the assassin, creating smoke in the places it was struck. It leapt at Daenerys, realizing it's time was running out. Ser Jorah leapt in front of her, taking the three of them down the pyramid staircase.

Daenerys freed herself from the tangle, stopping herself from falling any further. But Ser Jorah and the assassin kept rolling, she ran down the steps, watching as they hit the dirt ground and the citizens who were up gathered around. She clawed her way through the thick crowd, though by the time she reached the middle of it, there was only one person laying on the ground. Ser Jorah was covered in dirt and blood. Daenerys couldn't tell if it was his or the assassin's. Then he moved his hand from his chest.

The blood poured in an instant. Creating a pool in his woolen shirt. She dropped to her knees, covering her mouth and letting out an ugly cry. The Unsullied guards surrounded her, driving the crowd away.

"Daenerys." Ser Barristan yelled as he made his way down the last flight of palace steps.

She knelt closer to Ser Jorah's face as he struggled to say something.

"Khaleesi."

"Yes Ser Jorah. I'm here. Just hold on, we'll get you back to the palace." Daenerys knew it right there, those were the words of a liar. Ser Jorah would die here, in her arms, in the middle of a dirty street.

"Khaleesi."

It seemed to be the only word he could think of.

Then came a name she thought, she hoped, she would never have to hear again.

"Kraznys."

* * *

So I'm really sorry about this one guys. There really isn't an excuse for the lack of a chapter last week, I just put it off and I'm very sorry about that. Hopefully this won't happen again.

I'm thinking the next chapter should be up around next Thursday or Friday.

Again, I'm really sorry.


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